


One Last Mistake

by Allyjayrunaway



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allyjayrunaway/pseuds/Allyjayrunaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How are you supposed to tell her that, not only are you sending her down alone, but you’ll probably be executed as a direct result, and well, that’s life. C’est la vie. Sorry?</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Mistake

So, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re not going.  
Raven can fix the pod, Raven can radio back to the Ark, Raven has the boyfriend on the ground to worry about. The only reason you’re going is to protect a daughter who, if the dead bracelet is any indication, probably hates you right now. Plus, the logistics don’t make sense. The two of you can’t just disappear together, people would get suspicious and you probably wouldn’t make it out of the Ark alive, which is a risk you are not willing to take. So you’re staying behind, knowing full well that Kane will probably have you floated, and now that you think about it, you probably deserve it.  
After Jake, and now Clarke, you think you just about top the list for worst family member of all time, and you can’t really deal with that anymore, either. The only thing that’s making you even a little hesitant is Raven herself.  
How are you supposed to tell her that, not only are you sending her down alone, but you’ll probably be executed as a direct result, and well, that’s life. C’est la vie. Sorry?  
You cradle your head in your hands as the first salty tear begins its winding journey down the slope of your cheek. You can’t do this. You’re a Doctor for God’s sake, you don’t send people to die! You don’t send your friend hurtling to Earth in a hundred year-old hunk of rusted metal, praying that she finds a way to contact the Ark before they float you. Or, you didn’t used to make these kinds of decisions…times change, and Raven is the last hope for 300 people, yourself included.

Suck it up, Abby.

You’re distracted from the soft plinking sound your tears make when they collide with the metal flooring by a soft knock on the door. You were expecting her to come by later, but she must have hurried in order to be ready to install the pressure regulator by tomorrow. This has become your routine now, over the last 10 days: you sit in your cabin and you talk for hours, about what you think the ground is like, about what your lives have been like. Raven comes clean with you that it was her who took the spacewalk, and Finn who took the rap. That makes you feel odd, you would almost say jealous, if the concept weren’t so preposterous. When you tell her that it was your fault that Jake was floated, she holds you for the rest of the night, a strange sadness in her eyes. So all the fond memories of that last week are really just what you need right now.  
The crack in your voice is almost imperceptible as you call for her to come in. You’re unsurprised when she enters without a second thought, scuffing worn boots and flopping unceremoniously onto your bed, causing you to bounce a little. You really need to stop crying, because if she figures out what’s going on, there’s a large chance that she won’t go through with it. And 300 more people will die because of you.  
But suddenly, even more pressing than the thoughts of dying daughters or delinquent boyfriends waiting on the ground, comes the dilemma that…you don’t want her to go. Raven is comfortable. She’s warm, and soft, and so ungodly bright…she’s the opposite of all your worst fears and right now you think you might need her. Whatever that means.  
Meanwhile, she’s lounging on your bed, groaning something about heat shields and cabin filtration and you still haven’t moved. A single tear still hangs of the end of your nose, and when it finally falls, you feel like your world is ending and all you can do is sit idly by and watch it burn.

“Abbs, we’re going to the ground.” She gushes with a wistful sigh that sounds so awestruck and innocent it takes your breath away. It’s the nickname that catches you off guard, though. It knocks the wind out of you in the most pleasant way, and you are somewhat startled to feel heat creeping up your neck and into you cheeks. (Although if you’re going to be completely honest with yourself, it’s way less shocking than it should be.)

“Yep.” You barely manage to spit out the one syllable without completely falling to pieces, because you just want to be held again. You just want someone else to be the protector for once, and yet you know in your heart that you’ll do anything to save them. To save her. So you manage to keep it together once again. You feel her shift on the bed, feel her curl around you and every light brush of her legs against yours, every gentle touch of her hand against your back sets your synapses on fire, warmth swirling through you, only to end up coiled tight in your gut, like a rubber band that’s about to snap. You can’t help but to lean into her a little bit, the masochist that you are.

“Thank you.” She says quietly, as she begins to play with your disheveled hair, gently scratching your scalp before untangling each strand. “I know you didn’t have to agree to take me with you.”  
You barely hear what she says over the intense tingling that has taken up residence under every inch of your skin. She sounds so vulnerable that you can’t help but look back at her once it all registers. She looks surprised, but the tear tracks are still painfully evident, so you don’t blame her.

“Raven…” You begin cautiously, still no idea what to say or how to say it. After a beat, you turn to face the floor once again as you whisper “I can’t go with you.” More tears make their way to your jawline as you wait for a reaction. That is, if she even heard you.  
The bed rustles behind you, and the weight redistributes as she gets off, and you assume that means she’s going to leave- which hurts a lot more than it should- but you don’t hear the door open. You know she’s in the room still, but you refuse to look up. Instead, you see a pair of gorgeous amber eyes peering up at you as she kneels in front of you. She cautiously takes your face in her hands and gently lifts your gaze until it’s even with her own.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asks playfully, as she wipes your fresh tears away with soft fingers. You want to tell her, want to yell and scream about how you don’t have a choice-you don’t ever have a choice- that she deserves to be with her boyfriend, that Clarke hates you, so why even bother? But what slips out instead is a defeated “Somebody has to stay…”  
You know its weak, but you’re all out of steam and right now all you want to do is curl into the fetal position alone. Raven scoffs, and you’re immediately very aware of the space, or lack thereof, between her lips and yours. Her eyes still haven’t left yours, and you her gaze has turned heavy, pinning you in place and forcing the breath from your lungs. She’s looking for something, a sign that this is a joke, maybe? Either way, she doesn’t find it. She sits back on her heels and fidgets with the medical bracelet on her wrist. You notice that it’s the one that you gave her during her visit to medical this morning when she came to tell you about the pressure regulator, and you wonder why she hasn’t taken it off yet.  
“Did something come up with Kane?”  
You laugh bitterly. You’ve had a handle on Kane for years; he’s too busy enforcing all of his precious rules to ever actually follow up on his threats to you.  
“No. I just…I can’t go. I have to make sure nobody finds out until you’re gone…” You trail off, not admitting to the real reason behind the tears.  
Raven senses that there is more, despite your efforts, and asks, “And?” You remember then that you’ll probably get floated in less than a day, and you really can’t find a reason to care anymore. Might as well get it off your chest.  
“And because I need to protect you, okay? I can’t let anything happen to you, not after I dragged you into this.” Another bout of tears have escaped your control, and crest your cheek bones only to be wiped away again by silken fingers.  
“Abby, I’ll be fine. C’mon. We’ll be fine.” She’s trying everything to convince you, but your mind is already made up. Even the saddened pleading look in her eyes isn’t enough to sway you.  
“No, Raven.” She doesn’t quite understand you. “I cannot let anything happen to you.” You attempt to convey your deeper meaning through the eye contact that she still hasn’t dropped, and you think this time she sees it. Sees that entirely unexpected glint of something that feels a lot like need, and you can visibly see the impact it has on her. You can see the flush creep up her neck, see her lick her lips subconsciously, you see her back tense up as she grips your face infinitesimally more tightly, and you feel her heart rate pick up as she takes a deep, shuddering breath.  
Message received.  
“Abby…They’ll float you.” Her hoarse voice, barely more than a whisper, sends a tingle down your spine, and you can feel your cheeks growing hot despite the recent acknowledgement of your impending consequences. You blink slowly before you feel her rising slightly, just enough to close the gap between your lips, and then she’s kissing you. It’s a soft, reassuring pressure that has you melting into her, her hands cupping your neck and yours gripping the comforter like your life depends on it. You feel her nip lightly at your lower lip, pulling an involuntary whimper from low in your throat, and you thread your long fingers in her dark hair. Raven groans as you pull away slightly, resting your forehead against hers, eyes closed and trying desperately not to say what you’re about to.  
“Raven, we can’t-“ She cuts you off with another surging kiss, this one bruising and hungry. It takes your breath away and you can’t help but give in when you feel her push you down onto the bed, climbing up to straddle you while miraculously managing not to lose contact with your lips.  
Settling in further, she slowly begins brushing soft kisses to your jaw, punctuating her sentence with light nips to your jugular: “I. Am. Not. Going. Without. You. Abby.”  
You can do nothing but gasp when she finds that special spot under your left ear, setting upon it with vigour, kissing and sucking and nipping, teeth scraping against your hyper-sensitive when she smiles at your muffled curses. You can feel the heat coiling in your lower abdomen, but there is nothing you can do under the strength of her onslaught, even breathing becoming a somewhat laborious process.  
A low groan escapes you as her hand finds the soft skin at the crease of your hip, the other reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. As Raven tries to lift your shirt over your head, you decide that you’ve had enough of being good and, in a particularly spectacular move, you flip her so that you are straddling her slender hips. Triumphant, you attack her prominent collarbone with the same fervor that she lent your neck, resulting in a very satisfying whimper on her part. Raven still somehow manages to get your bra off without removing your shirt, and the sudden sensation of hot hands roaming your exposed stomach and back is almost enough to distract you from an especially sensitive spot just under the hollow of her neck. Almost.  
Without warning (and with an equally spectacular move) you are once again on your back, shirtless this time. Your skin tingles from the mixture of body heat and cool air, even more so when you feel a slight brushing along your stomach when Raven pulls back a little. You manage to pry open your eyes just in time to see her present you with her most mischievous grin, and you groan inwardly.  
“Raven…” You almost don’t recognize your own voice, it hasn’t been husky like this in years, but before you can say anything more she lays a finger gently over your lips.  
“Let me make you forget.” She pleads almost in a whisper, eyes wide and sincere, and for a moment she looks so young…  
But then she’s back, laying kisses reverently along your collarbone before descending to take an exposed nipple into her mouth and flicking her tongue over the hardened peak rapidly. You can’t help it when your back arches violently into her touch, and her hands come up to press your ribs back into the mattress. After a moment, she switches sides, and just before she gets settled in again, you get just enough air to ask “When did you get so good at this?” in between gasps and breathy moans. She pulls back to give you a cheeky grin before kissing a line down your taut stomach, causing small tremors to shudder through you at her every touch. Once she arrives at the waistline of your jeans, she makes her way over to the soft skin at the crease of your hip once again.  
“So soft.” She murmurs, warm breath caressing your skin and causing another flash of white-hot arousal to flood through you. There’s nothing you can do but gasp and try desperately not to scream in frustration. Especially when Raven slinks all the way down to your feet, delicately removing first your right boot, then your left; pressing open mouthed kisses to the inside of each ankle, eliciting a small groan from deep in the back of your throat.  
She reaches up to unbutton your pants and helps you shimmy out of them before proceeding to nip, kiss, and otherwise mark her way up your left leg, pausing to worry at the line of your panties with her teeth before continuing on her path down the inside of your other leg, paying special attention to the spot behind your knee when she notices that it makes you whimper with need. If you were going to scream earlier, you’re going to commit murder now.  
She makes her final mark on the inside of your ankle and sits back on her heels, all sparkling eyes and Cheshire cat grin. Meanwhile, every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and you think that if she doesn’t stop teasing you, you might spontaneously combust (despite years of education and medical experience telling you that it’s physically impossible).  
“Raven!” You rasp impatiently, and are startled to find that you don’t even recognize your own voice. It almost sounds as if you’ve been gargling cement. And you can tell by the way her normally amber eyes darken to a stormy grey that she likes that. A lot. “Stop. Teasing.” You grit out slowly, over-enunciating every syllable, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that it feels like you’ve forgotten how to talk. However, any remaining cognizant ability flies out the window as your oxygen-deprived brain registers the absolutely predatory look on her face. She looks like she’s going to eat you alive which, in hindsight, might be the point of all this…but you’re intellectually compromised, so you’re not entirely sure.  
All you can concentrate on is how the dim light plays off of her muscles as she pulls off her shirt and unclasps her bra, and then there is only skin.  
Her skin on your skin, Raven surrounding you, and then she’s kissing you like you are the sun and it’s all you can do not to explode then and there. You are suddenly aware that Raven is kissing along the line of your underwear and a strangled sigh escapes you as she gently strokes you over the soaked fabric. You fully expect her to just rip them off and (finally!) get to business, but instead, she raises her gaze, full of adoration and apprehension in equal amounts, and whispers the question, “Okay?” And all you can think is that she cares. She really cares about what happens to you, and you can feel the tears start to fall.  
“Please, Raven.” Turns out, you’re not so averse to begging as you thought you were, especially under these circumstances. Which turn out to be exactly the right circumstances because suddenly you are exposed and the feel of Raven’s warm breath has tremors running through you like shockwaves, and you think that if you don’t get some kind of release soon, you’ll have to take things into your own hands.  
You feel Raven grip your hips, stroking the soft skin of your stomach with outstretched thumbs, before she’s stroking you long and hard with the flat of her tongue and then sucking your clit into her mouth and you swear to God you’re shattering into a million pieces. You can’t control the whimper that escapes you as your back arches nearly off the mattress. You can feel Raven smirking against you as you entwine your fingers in her soft hair, and that alone is almost enough to throw you over the edge.  
She releases your bundle of nerves in exchange for some room to explore, but she keeps a thumb pressed down lightly; teasing, but not nearly enough. It’s maddening.  
You decide that you’re about a millisecond away from having an aneurysm (something you know is possible) when Raven eases two fingers into your throbbing core, and starts a rhythm that slowly begins to build tempo while at the same time her skilled mouth finds its way back to your swollen clit, her tongue flicking over it at an ever increasing pace before she curls her fingers inside you and, ever so gently, she lets her teeth graze the cluster of nerves, and you’re done. Obliterated.  
You try to be quiet, but you can’t hold it all in, so you settle for a few gritty expletives with Raven’s name thrown in at random intervals. You collapse back into the mattress as Raven clambers back up to kiss you sweetly and to run light fingers through your disheveled hair, holding you close as you slowly come back to life.

You awake a while later to soft kisses pressed against your bare shoulders, warm arms holding you close. Confusion clouds your mind for a moment before you inhale a lungful of what can only be described as Raven. You attempt to roll over to face her, but she has to give you some room before you can get the job done. Your eyes flutter closed as she kisses you languidly, and you feel a shy smile break out on your face as she pulls away to give the tip of your nose a quick peck.  
“Hello, Sleepyhead.” She whispers into the almost nonexistent air between you.  
“Hi.” You murmur back drowsily. You feel like you could sleep for a hundred years. Which reminds you that Raven is supposed to be leaving soon and this is probably the last chance you’ll ever have to see her, so you pull her tight to you, and burrow into her shoulder, hiding yourself from the world and hiding her from the hot tears that are slipping all too rapidly down your cheeks.  
“What are we doing?” It’s a rhetorical question, but as always, the rules don’t apply to her.  
“What’s one last mistake?” She says it as if those two questions are the answer to everything, and in hindsight, they might be. All you can think is that in a few hours, you are going to die. But that paralyzing thought pales in comparison to the elation you feel when you realize that in a few hours, Raven is going to _live_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a product of a very long car ride and one too many consecutive The 100 marathons. However, this is quickly becoming one of my favorite fandoms. Long live the Doctor Mechanic Mafia.
> 
> Also, I could probably be persuaded to write a follow up piece to this one...if you want it.  
> Anyways, happy hunting.  
> AJ


End file.
